User blog comment:Bartholomew Billberry Bowstring/The Wrath of Gormad Tunn/@comment-32303-20131111163650/@comment-25220117-20131123175100

"Hoi, Wireclaw, yore relieved. Git some rest" *A weasel strides up to the two stoats, before leaning up against his spear. Wireclaw grabs his dagger, avoiding his companion's jealous look as he slinks off towards the tents. Taking Wireclaw's place against the tree, he nods to the remaining stoat, who's ramming his dagger furiously into the dirt* "Hurry up, I don't want ter be here all day..." *Leaning back against the tree with his spear against his shoulder, the weasel closes his eyes, before slowly beginning to snore. Shaking his head in disgust, the stoat tosses his dagger angrily aside, muttering curses to himself*